CookieTime Tales
by cookieaddicts
Summary: Have you ever wondered how many cracky AUs could be compiled in one series? Here be cookies, pirates, rabbits, jungles, genies, croquet... come, dear reader, if you dare!


_Why, hello there, reader! You have entered the CookieTime Tales. It is a co-writing between __**katiesparks**__, __**66ButterflyOfDarkness99 **__and__** S2lou**__; we have decided to embark on a series of rather cracky AUs, of which you are now reading the first instalment. Go check our common profile for more details._

_More specifically, this is a series of cracky ideas for AUs, in which we can write anything from drabbles to an actual, chaptered fic. This is the case with this first miniseries. We have each written several parts of it, it'll be up to you to make out who wrote what._

_We do not own any of the characters used in this fic. __**This is not to be taken seriously. **__It was written for our own enjoyment, and hopefully, our readers' too._

_Enjoy your read, and may the cookie be with you!_

-

**Pirates!**

-

The ship had, apparently, been anchored for the night, which made her easier to climb. The water below was downright freezing, and the cool breezy wind that swept around the near-deserted deck, apart from the occasional mate rounding port and starboard, did nothing to warm the exhausted body who heaved himself over the stern and let himself slump wetly down onto a roll of rope.

The man was only half-dressed, and what little remained of his pants was tattered and torn, tainted with red, diluted stains. Blood still poured down his side, one hand pressed over the wound as the dark head fell back to rest against the wood slats.

Breathing heavily, he glanced at the water he had just left. The blood had impeded his swimming, trickled away among the thin waves, and, no doubt, sharks would be crowding around soon. This ship was a blessing from the gods.

He was worn out by now, and each and every move seemed to tear at his muscles. He let himself fall back exhaustedly, eyes sweeping over the stern, closing already in drugged fatigue. A wet clapping called his attention.

The flag was flapping high in the semi-clear night, clacking in the damp wind. It was barely visible, since the moon was thin and half-hidden, as more than a shaded, live flame, but as the flickering light of a chandelier grew stronger when a curtain was pushed back nearby, he was able to discern on it the King's arms.

A choked smile passed over the man's mouth before he caught sight of a bottle rolling nearby. Rum. Wonderful. He would need rum if he didn't want to pass out cold.

He grabbed the bottle, popped the cork off with a flick of his fingers, and was lifting it to his lips when a shadow silhouetted itself over the faint light from the adjacent cabin. It was not tall, but to the half-dead man sagged on the roll of rope, it was towering and menacing.

"That's our rum you're drinking," the shadow said, one hand on a hip.

It had a woman's voice, a little rough on the side, but unmistakable.

The man took a long gulp, wiped away the rum that trickled down his lips, and let the hand that pressed against his side fall away to his thigh. The blood flowed down more heavily than before, the water that mingled with it helping to dilute it further.

"Aye aye, captain," he said weakly, and the bottle dropped from his hand.

-

The nerve. She should have left him in the water and let the sharks do their work. But no, as the good captain she was, she just couldn't. She would have dishonoured her father, and, in Triton's fin's name, she would never do that.

She studied him more carefully, and despite all the blood mixed with water over his body, she still could notice the deep wound on his side. She instantly ordered two of his men to take him down to the sick bay. She watched as they lifted his unconscious body and ordered the rest of her crew to stay alert for any more castaways.

"Maybe their ship was attacked." Her third-in-command suggested, standing beside her.

"Maybe. We'll know when he wakes up. But if that is the case, I suggest we keep our eyes very open tonight. Double the watch, Mr. Ootaki." she enjoined with a nod, and turned to leave. "I don't want anymore surprises tonight."

"Aye, Captain."

-

It wasn't long before the doctor came to her cabin to inform her of the state of his new patient. He looked a bit dishevelled and was rubbing his face, sighing, as he sat on one of the chairs near her desk. "Well, he was lucky. The wound was deep, caused by a sword no doubt, and he seems to have lost a lot of blood, but he'll survive." He extended his legs over the Asian carpet.

"How long before he wakes up, Hakuba?" she asked while serving her friend a glass of rum.

"Well, not sure." He emptied his glass in one shot. "But given his condition I would say a day or two." His face turned serious. "Do you think his ship was attacked?"

Aoko put her elbows on her desk and leaned on her crossed hands. Her face matching his. "I don't know. What if he was one of the attackers?"

Hakuba arched an eyebrow. "You mean a pirate?"

She shrugged. "Who knows. We better keep an eye on him. Something has been bothering me since we found him."

She looked at Hakuba and suddenly asked, "Where is he?"

"Down in the sick bay, resting in a hammock. You look tired. Maybe you should sleep too," he said, analyzing her face and body movements.

"I will," Aoko said, heading out of the cabin. "After checking on our new visitor."

-

Aoko entered the place as quiet as possible, trying not to disturb the few injured people in the sick bay. She spotted the farthest hammock from the door, blocked from sight by a not-so-whitecurtain, and headed there as cautiously as when she had come in. Reaching it, she drew up the cloth a bit and slipped inside before letting it close behind her soundlessly. He looked much better than when they had found him. He had a cover over him, no doubt to keep him warm, but she removed it softly to check on his state. His pants were still tattered and torn, blood still visible on them, but at least his side was bandaged and his skin looked a bit cleaner. He looked awfully pale but according to Hakuba he was going to survive, so she paid it no more attention.

But what she couldn't help but notice was his body structure. Now, Captain Aoko Nakamori wasn't one of those who liked to peek other male's bodies whenever she had the chance. She was thought to be a refined woman and a noble captain.

But he was just too gorgeous for her taste to not look. Broad shoulders, fine chest, toned muscles in all its right parts, a few scars here and there that let you know how many times the man must have been in battle, strong callused hands that looked too skilful in her own opinion, silky brown hair that fell softly over his closed eyes, full lips half parted, and, from what she had seen when he was still conscious, the deepest blue eyes.

Aoko shook her head. She shouldn't be doing this; the poor man was injured and unconscious for the seven seas! She covered him again, her hands shaking a little this time, and turned around to leave when her wrist was caught in a strong grip.

Hand going unconsciously to the sword on her hip, she immediately turned around to half-opened eyes. He didn't seem to be fully awake but his eyes reflected confusion and uncertainty. She relaxed her hand on the sword and stared down at him. For an instant, she wished that he could be fully awake and provide her with some answers, but just as the thought crossed her mind his eyes closed again and the hand on her wrist went limp at his side. Fearing the worst, she instantly checked his pulse, and only when she found it did she allowed herself to breathe again.

She then decided it was best if she too went to sleep.

-

He heard the world long before he could open his eyes and see it.

The noise around him was the normal noises you would hear on a ship, which was both good news and bad news. Good news, because that meant the either didn't know who he was, or they did and were still far enough from a port to where they couldn't get there while he was still unconscious. The bad news was that it was mighty harder to escape from a ship than it was to escape on land. And if you did escape, where are you going to go? The ocean floor, perhaps?

People came and went from this room he was in repeatedly, more than would be necessary to just be leaving food for a prisoner and the voices he managed to catch did not speak the rough language of pirates and sailors. That could only mean he was on a merchant ship or a private ship. He prayed for the first one and opened his eyes.

The light was blinding at first, but after a moment he realized he was in a rather nicely furnished infirmary and his side had been patched up while he was out. As he was looking around and taking inventory of himself, a young blond man walked in and Kaito stiffened reflexively.

"Oh, you've awoken. Good. Can I get your name, sir, and perhaps your address so we can get you out of my infirmary?" The man said and Kaito decided that if they didn't already know who he was, then they weren't going to find out from him.

"Well, mate, I was hoping you could tell me that."

-

The physician arched an eyebrow. "You mean to tell me you don't remember who you are?"

"I-I don't...Everything is so blank..." Kaito said with a hand to his forehead, feigning a huge headache.

The man went to examine his head for any injury that might have escaped his watchful eye but found none. "Mmm...That's odd..." He turned around and pointed to one of the sailors. "You. Go get the Captain. Tell her it's about our new visitor."

"Aye, sir!"

They didn't have to wait long for the captain to show up at the sick bay, and as soon as she did Kaito did nothing to take his eyes off her. She had an air of being tough and strict but her deep eyes told him how passionate this woman could be. He mentally grinned at her sight.

"What is it? Oh, you have woken up. Good to know," she added after seeing Kaito awake.

"Apparently so, but it seems he has lost his memory. He can't remember his name."

"What?" she asked, surprised. She looked at Kaito and moved in front of him. "My name is Captain Aoko Nakamori. We found you two days ago on our ship in an unconscious state, and took care of your wounds. This gentleman beside me is doctor Saguru Hakuba; you are alive thanks to him. Now, what can you tell me or remember about yourself?"

Kaito grabbed his forehead once again and shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry but I can't remember who I am..."

"What about what happened to you? You have a sword injury on your side. Do you have any memories of that?"

"No... I'm sorry captain but I don't..."

Aoko felt irritated. She had hoped to have some answers by the time their visitor woke up; some kind of information, anything. Anything to stop the little annoying feeling at the pit of her stomach that told her something was wrong...

She looked back at him and found deep blue eyes staring back at her quite intensely. She shivered unconsciously. "What?"

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. "Nothing. I'm just really grateful to you all for saving my life." He bowed his head slightly as a sign of gratitude.

Aoko hesitated. "Uh...you're welcome. Now you better rest so you'll recover faster."

"Aye, Captain." Kaito said with a smile.

-

Kaito was allowed to leave the sick bay a week after he had first been transported there. Hakuba left him clean black pants and a white shirt, and as he dressed he picked up a dagger from the belt of another injured sailor asleep in one of the hammocks.

"Thanks for that, matey," he hummed, juggling the dagger from hand to hand and sliding it in his own belt, and jogged up the steps to step out on deck.

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was high, shining hot in a white-blue sky, and gulls were alight on the mizzen, their laughter blown bow-wise by the winds. They mustn't be very far from a port. A few sailors up in the lines, reefing the sails, and their rough shanty. The salty sea air and the sound of waves hitting the keel were better cures to Kaito's constitution than all the droughts Hakuba had given him.

He took a few steps, climbed up quickly onto the quarterdeck, offered a smile to the man at the wheel. It was just a boy, who must have been no older than fifteen and stared at him with wide eyes before focusing on the wheel again.

A man came running up to the quarterdeck also, a map spread out in his hands, and spared Kaito a glance before losing interest. "Conan, captain says to turn eastward–" He stopped cold.

_Sink me,_ thought Kaito, and wondered whether he should laugh.

The man wheeled back on him, sword unearthed in the same fluid move and stopping short of Kaito's throat before he could even turn. "Kuroba," he ground out. "What in the _hell_'s name are you doing here?"

Kaito grinned before he could help himself. "Kudo," he said. "Fancy meeting you here, eh?"

"Shut up," Kudo hissed, bringing his sword's blade closer to Kaito's neck. "You focus!" he snapped at Conan, who'd neglected the wheel in favour of staring, and to whatever sailors heard him from underdeck– "Get me the captain. _Now!"_

Aoko arrived in record time, her cheeks slapped red by the wind and run and her black locks tied back by a ribbon. "Stay focused on the track,' she told Conan, and appraised them, the two men on deck with the one's sword at the other's neck, with hard eyes.

"What's going on?"

"Do you know that man's name?"

She frowned. "No. He's amne–"

Kaito made an odd sound in the back of his throat.

"He's Kaitou KID," Kudo said, bit, and Kaito could see Aoko stagger, the sudden poise of the hips and the hand, the menace in the tension on her muscles. Her eyes flashed oceans at him, the dark parting and melting again, glaring.

"_What_."

"He's Kaitou KID," Kudo repeated, "the man I captured four years ago. The man who sank my ship and whom I led to prison to be branded _this_," and Kaito was only half-surprised and half-resisting when the sword lowered an inch and Kudo's hard grip tightened on his neck, on his hair, to reveal the 1412 tattoo branded on his nape.

Aoko's eyes narrowed and burned as Kudo let go, raising his weapon again to Kaito's throat, and in that moment, she looked remarkably like her father–the same inner fury, but restrained, constricted. "_Really."_

Kaito shrugged, and allowed one sailor to relieve him of his dagger. "Well, me lass, there be no blamin' me for tryin'." He let the accent roll on his tongue, and was almost amused when Aoko's winced at it.

"I should make you meet the gunner's daughter for that," she barked; and to the hands gathering around them, "Take him underdeck. Lock him in one of the cages–chain him up if you have to, if he _resists_."

And the perspective of being chained up in a cage he'd have no trouble escaping from at night, and being interrogated by Aoko, was just too good to let it pass. "Arrr!" he said, as they took him away.

-

**Making Kaito talk like a pirate is fun.**

**On a side note, today's Katie-chan's birthday. Which is mostly why we decided to post this first chapter today–surprised much? *ultraglomp and shower of cookies from butterfly-chan and sara-chan***

**We hope you have enjoyed the read, dear reader. Have some cookies. See you next time?**


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